Page 25 of The Duke's Lesson in Love

“Wait!”

He halted. “Mamon Sadie?” he said, but hadn’t taken his eyes from the door.

She shook her head at his haste. “Are you not going to clear your dishes from the table?”

“But Mrs. Mary—”

She cocked her brow and folded her arms.

“Yes, ma’am.” His shoulders dropped, but he piled his used dishes, making Sadie wince as they scraped against each other before he raced towards the kitchen.

Picking up her own teacup, she followed, determined to inquire about the nursery.

The early morning sun warmed her skin the moment she stepped outside. While the front lawn was manicured with neatly trimmed hedges and roses, the rear of the property spoke of hard work and agricultural accomplishments. Beyond an acre or so of grassy land separating the home from the surrounding property, she saw the roofs of buildings. Even further were fields of various crops and thick stretches of trees.

It surprised her even more that the main house only boarded minimal servants when the surrounding lands required a great deal of attention. Was it cost? Now that she thought of it, Lord Gilleasbuig wasn’t an excessive man. None of the meals he ordered on their travels were more than he could eat and on their day of shopping, he had purchased nothing for himself. Not the latest cravat or a fashionable cane. His lordship spiked her curiosity the longer she remained in his company.

“Mary says you’re taking Edwin to see the Porters.” She walked further into the yard as Gill lifted Edwin onto the buckboard wagon.

He turned, one hand bracing the wagon and her eyes fastened as the shirt pulled around the muscles under the white cotton fabric. He was not like any Duke she imagined—not that she’d met many. She envisioned them in their studies puffing on cigar smoke and reading the Gazette. Perhaps breaking their fast with brandy while bellowing to their servants about some nuisance.

“So you have come to see us off.” A smirk teased the corners of his mouth. “Careful Miss Fields, those are not the duties of a governess.” He stepped closer. “However, if you’d like to play at wif—"

Her gaze flashed to him. “My duties are precisely why I’m here, Your Grace.” Her chin tilted, lest he see the effect his words were having.

“Not to wish me Godspeed with a kiss so I may be on my way?” He pouted. “How unfortunate.”

He was teasing and lord if her core hadn’t dampened at his sultry words.

“Lord Gilleasbuig,” she hissed, her gaze landing on Edwin, but the boy was playing with the reins.

“Very well,” he said, hopping onto the wagon.

“Wait.” She bit her lower lip. How was she to delicately inquire about the nursery with the reins already in his hands?

“Are you joining us?” He winked at Edwin. “Do you think we should allow her aboard?”

The child giggled. “Mamon Sadie, let’s go.”

“But—”

“He wants you to come,” Gill insisted.

“Alright!” She clutched her skirt, quickly hurrying around the back of the wagon. Gill shifted to make room, but Edwin jumped onto his father’s lap, eliciting a groan from Gill.

The tug in her chest grew tenfold at seeing how quickly the child accepted his father. His lordship pretended to have a cold exterior, but he was far more considerate than he let on. Not even his servants spoke ill of him behind his back. For all the prattling Ferna did, the girl did not share her master’s secrets. That loyalty was not born from nothing. So why did he wait almost five years to claim his son?

In addition to his selflessness, he was a handsome man. Tall and broad in the shoulders. Her gaze ran along his long legs in the confined space of the buggy as another question danced across her mind. Why had he distanced himself from high society and London? What made her more curious was the question of why he wasn’t married.

After adjusting the reins and Edwin on his lap, he extended his hand, hoisting her up. Sadie shuddered when their thighs brushed. She tried to scooch over, but there was no room. The restricted space and the heat, whether from the rising sun or his body made her all too aware of his nearness. She shifted uneasily as her own body purred a seductive hum.

“Have you steered a wagon before Edwin?”

“No, Your Grace.” His back pressed against his father’s chest. “I don’t like horses. Mr. Jacob has one, and he’s mean.”

“You may call me Father or Papa if you wish, Edwin. No need for formalities between us.”

Edwin nodded, but didn’t take him up on the offer. Like lots of the orphans, they were weary of being disappointed.

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